Further
by LadyRasafras
Summary: "When the Sun burns out, will any of this matter? Who will be there to remember who we were? Who will be there to know that any of this had meaning for us?" Collection of one-shots about the ones who changed everything. Some continuity, rating may change


**Disclaimer: I don't own the game Mass Effect, nor it's characters. They belong to Bioware. Any characters I create belong to LadyRasafras & Castanea Creations.  
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**A/N: Been a while since I published something on here! Been busy with college and my new job! This is a part of my own version of the ME3 ending. I stay vague on what actually happened because I'm still writing that out. Little late to the party, I wrote this when I finished it (shortly after the game came out), but I never finished the writing. So in class I finished it, and am now posting it.**

**I should write all my stuff in class, it always seems to come out better. And it's easier to put all my ME stuff in one story, rather than publish a one-shot every time I think of something.  
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**As usual, rate, review, do whatever you want as long as criticisms are well-founded. This is not meant to be a pinnacle of literature.  
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_Time: Post-ME3  
_

_"Should have known right from the start, you can't predict the end."  
_

_ - Panic at the Disco  
_

"I'll have you know I spent two years rebuilding her! No one, and I repeat, no one knows her biology better than I do. So get the hell out of my way and let me do what you're obviously failing at!"

"Bu-" There was a whoosh as the door opened and Adela Shepard assumed the poor doctor had been shoved out of the doorway. A hand lay over her eyes. The doctor said it was a after-effect of all the explosions and Reaper beams. That her eyes would be over-sensitive to lights for a while and that technically she should be wearing something over them. But hell if Commander Shepard was going to be blind to anything. So, for now, her hand would suffice.

"I'm fine, Miranda," Shepard laughed with thinly veiled amusement. The expansion of her chest left a numb, aching pain after it. Pain-killers were mostly doing their job. Mostly. Bandages covering just about every part of her body, her leg held up with cloths and something that looked metal. Hell, she needed those pain-killers. Still couldn't feel anything below her hip in regards to her right leg. The other leg just itched.

Clicking of high heels hitting the floor neared as Miranda walked over to the bed. "NO. You're not fine. And those idiots have no idea what they're doing." Shifting one hand to eye Lawson with some apprehension. The usually cool Miranda was frowning over the datapad she was reading over. Shepard's green eyes twitched back to the ceiling, having a hard time adjusting to the lighting.

"Hey, we won. That's all that matters, don't forget that." Sacrifices were always made and she was lucky. No response from Miranda, just more tapping from her nails. Hovering over her like a mother hen. Didn't she have better things to be taking care of? "Look, there are a lot of people that need treatment more than I do." Miranda's eyelashes flickered as she forced herself not to look at Shepard. ". . .Is it that bad?" She finally asked.

"You'll walk again. I promise, Commander."

That wasn't an answer, as she was tempted to point out. Jaw tightened as she thought about it. Not walking. Adela tentatively looked at her leg, all bound up. After breaking out of. . . it. . . and doing everything she had to. There had been a big hunk of metal on, in, and around her. Most of it's weight crushing her leg.

And she thought being spaced had hurt.

The pain hadn't been the worst. In those moments she had thought of everything. That she wanted to visit Mindoir one more time. Taste real feta cheese again. Give her prayers at the monument on Akuze she never got to see. Mostly she hadn't wanted to die pinned down. And there was no way she was going to leave him alone again.

"-pard... Shepard!"

"What?" Blinking and shifting, still trying to get use to not being able to sit up. All she got in response was Miranda gazing at her with her lips pressed into a thin line.

". . . Maybe you have a concussion too-"

"I think they would have realized if I had a concussion by now." The statement was dry, more bored than her tone had been minutes earlier. Now she was alive, so she could do all those things. She just might have to hobble a bit. "Hey, Miranda. I think I need some time alone to. . . adjust to everything."

"But-"

Silencing her with a frown and a raised eyebrow. "That's an order, Lawson." Shepard'd be lying if she said she didn't get a . . . bit of enjoyment out of the irritation in Miranda's eyes out of being ordered about. But Adela just put on her 'Commander' face and stared back. There was a 'humpf' and some muttering before Miranda flipped around and walked out. Silence was left in her wake. Real, honest to god silence. The Normandy was never silent, there was always the slight hum of the engine in the background.

It wasn't entirely untrue either. She did need time to adjust. To victory and rebuilding. Everything had happened so fast. Adrenaline had kept her from dwelling. Any time she had to consider something she had been sleeping or doing reports. Now she could think of it all. Of them. Mordin, Thane, Legion . . . Anderson. They died heroes, and she would make sure that was how they would be remembered. There weren't any tears left to mourn them, tears wouldn't even be adequate anyway.

Maybe she would have been better off sacrificed too. Snorting out loud, would be better than the backlash she sensed she would have to live with the rest of her life. It was the way it worked. The way it always seemed to work. Something she should have done different. Or not at all.

"I'd like to see you do better!" The shout coincided with the whoosh of the door. And all she could do was stare blankly at the unfamiliar turian who stood in the doorway, a puzzled glint in his eyes. ". . ." Snapping her mouth shut so that a long 'uhhh' wouldn't drone out.

". . .If this is a bad time. . ." He started, the familiar flanging of a turian's voice made her feel. . . better. Mentally berating herself at acting like a child who needed constant reminding of her. . .boyfriend. Burying the smile quickly into her 'Commander' face and raising her chin to the stranger. The light from the doorway hurt a bit and she tried not to squint.

"No. Sorry. Nerves." Three word response. If he was a normal, polite turian then he'd let it go. Or she'd throw the nearest weapon at him. Which would be a pillow, but she was Commander Shepard and she would find a way to murder him with a pillow, when she couldn't even move from the bed, if she had to.

"I understand."

Closer inspection revealed she honestly didn't know him. Garrus told her most turians had pulled out and headed back to Palaven for damage control, but a few ships were sticking around to help Earth out of gratitude. Maybe he was yet another officer come to say 'you did a good job'. Not that she didn't appreciate it, but she really needed a moment to breathe. Besides, half of those 'good jobs' was followed by a bottle of something alcoholic. Which she wasn't even allowed to enjoy yet. For now they were in some mysterious 'box' Miranda kept bringing them to.

"I wanted to meet the hero of. . . well, everything," There was a chuckle. Or at least what she thought was a chuckle. It might have been a snort. "From everything I heard I'm shocked you're not a puddle on the concrete."

Forcing out a dry laugh. That wasn't exactly an encouraging comment. "I'm tough to kill." And there had yet to be introductions. Well, she could be polite, even or rude. "Nice to meet you. . ."

There was only some screeching as he dragged a chair over to the side of the bed and sat down. "I'm Cyrik Vakarian."

". . ." Green eyes just blinked twice slowly. "So you're. . ."

"Garrus' father."

On instinct Adela struggled to sit up. Which looked akin to a fish out of water. Nope. This wasn't going to happen. Commander Adela Shepard was not about to meet Garrus' father laying on her back.

"Stay down soldier," It was an order. And she froze instantly. Damn, he had a voice that could make a krogan freeze. "I won't have you opening something back up because of an old officer." In the back of her mind she pictured punching Garrus. _A little warning would have been nice, Vakarian!_ Frowning at that thought, _Vakarian-Junior_, she amended as she sank back into her pillow.

"Is there," Her voice _squeaked. _Clearing her throat stubbornly, trying to act like she hadn't acted like a teenager caught by an adult. But this was hardly her fault. Garrus had directly told her his father wouldn't like her. Of course that had been before their. . . relationship and saving the galaxy. "Is there something I can do for you?" Maybe she should have been the one researching.

"Like I said. Just wanted to meet you. Garrus has told me a lot about you." His mandibles twitched slightly as he spoke. Adela just swallowed. Well, that was. . . blunt. Blue eyes danced around her face, studying her and she shifted uncomfortably. And he didn't answer her question either. Who knows how much Garrus actually told him.

"I, ah, understand your daughter made it off Palaven with you?"

There was something close to amusement that gleamed in his eyes as he shifted, resting his hand on his knee. "Solana's at the medical facility we were originally transferred to. She broke her leg in the escape, so she couldn't travel yet. Seems you're suffering the same." Cyrik paused for a moment, breaking their eye contact to consider the ceiling, then her leg and finally her face. "Though I'm sure she would have wanted to meet you too. . ."

Wanting to scratch an itch on her nose. But she just ignored it, she felt like she should just stay still and he might go away. Play dead. Every time she met one of her teams' parents, it never really ended well. Jacob's father. . . Miranda's father. . . Tali's father, though she didn't really meet him. So if history was any teacher this wouldn't end well either. Oh, he was looking at her like she was suppose to say something.

Cyrik sighed. Slowly and indulgently. "Well, I'm old but I'm not stupid." Adela parted her lips to point out she never even alluded to that, but he raised his hand first. "He's a stubborn, hot-headed, dare I say rash, poor excuse for a turian sometimes. But he's still my son."

That earned a scowl. Oh, no, he didn't. "Garrus may not be what you want a turian or your damned son to be, but he's done more for this war, galaxy and your people than anyone else can say. So you better watch what you-" The word drifting off into silence as he just stared at her. Alright, it was more like a glare. A seething, angry, 'be silent you stupid child' glare. Mandibles twitching again as he shifted and leaned closer to her.

"And I'm still his father and he still told me enough to figure it out." Pulling away from her personal space and shaking his head lightly. "Well, more his mother. Just wanted her to know he wasn't alone," A ghost of a grin seemed to cross his face. "I think me knowing was more of a accident. . . We'd never gotten along." Oh, because she wouldn't have gathered that from him calling Garrus a 'poor excuse for a turian'. Hands balling the sheets into a fist. "Differences in opinion."

Breathe, Shepard. It was like a mantra. And it wasn't to stay brave, it was to keep from snapping and yelling at him. Garrus and her had just been blown to hell and back, they'd made those tough calls _together_. And she wasn't going to defend herself, him or their relationship to anyone, not even his father. "If you're here to say how much you don't approve then you can just walk right back out that door." In fact, she would help him, with a nice biotic shove.

Cyrik seemed content to. . . ignore her. "Not by name at first, but considering how he couldn't shut up about you it wasn't hard to figure out. I. . ." Eying her with no hidden amusement, "Didn't approve of course." If he listed off why a turian-human relationship wouldn't work she was going to smack him with a singularity. Shove him right out the window. "My wife had passed away a while before, she'd been sick for a while so it was probably a mercy. . ."

". . ." That was a dramatic 160, ah, how was she suppose to respond. "I'm sorry. I know what it's like to lose family." Garrus didn't talk about his family much, it was one of those subjects neither of them really liked to speak about. Sore point for both of them.

"Well, I didn't want my family to go through any more. The last thing that boy needed was to be attacked because his hero-worship of a human turned into something else." Adela's left eyebrow twitched slightly. "And you'd already died once and I saw what that did to him, destroyed everything he's built up."

". . ." What should she call him? First name? Mr. Vakarian? "Look, Cyrik, whatever your concerns and complaints are." Be nice, be nice. "I'm sure I've, we've, already thought about it." A lot. "And _we_ decided it's worth it. Garrus was the one person to stand by me when few would, and there's little I wouldn't do for him. I wouldn't have made it this far if it wasn't for him. Look where he is now, he's respected and saved the goddamn galaxy." Screw being nice. "If you're so narrow-minded that-"

"You didn't let me finish."

"Finish tearing apart my relationship with your son?"

"What I was _going_ to say," It was hard to ignore the irritation in his tone. The tightening of his mandibles against his jaw. "Was that when the war happened and I thought I'd die with my son thinking I disapproved of nearly everything he'd ever done. I was ashamed." Really tempted to point out that he did disapprove of everything. "Helping him in those six months was one thing, I thought I was fixing our relationship. Then we practically lost Palaven and he went off with you and next thing I know we're off planet and you saved the 'goddamn galaxy'." Sighing again and scratching one of his head plates. "Before that, I let it go, because honestly no one thought you'd live through it."

". . ." Gee, thanks. Though it was true, she didn't think so either. But the moment he told her to come back she was sure as hell going to do it. Commander Shepard didn't break promises.

"But you did. And here we are."

This was uncomfortable. For both of them it seemed. If Adela had the ability to walk out of the room she probably would have. Or at least faced Cyrik with a little more pride. "Well, I'm not about to apologize for living to be with the greatest man I've ever met. So if you're done."

"What I'm trying to say is. . . I can't tell him what to do anymore, he wouldn't listen to me if I tried." No kidding. "And I don't want to live the rest of my life with my son hating me. So, first, the three of us are going to have a nice, long discussion. Second, as many problems as I have with this." Oh, joy. "I will respect your decisions," He took a long, steady breathe and the next words were growled out, "And I do approve of you being my daughter-in-law."

Oh, exhaling in relief. At the very least she wouldn't have to deal with-. . . wait. What? "You're what?"

Cyrik blinked and stared back at her evenly. For a moment he seemed lost in thought at her 'prey in headlights' expression. ". . .Garrus hasn't stopped by today yet. . . Has he." Mandibles tightened hard against his jaw. And he shifted his arm around in a almost awkward manner.

". . .No."

"...Er." Looking over his shoulder at the closed door. "If I can ask a favor. . ." Adela didn't respond, just stared at him with big eyes. Well, sure, they talked about babies and everything. But. . . But. . . She didn't think, she didn't have time to think about. . . All she could do was blink. In a few quick movements he stood up and starting pulling the chair back where it originally had been. "Act surprised."

**A/N: Hope you enjoyed it somewhat. I'm sure I'm not the first to write papa!Vakarian, and I'm certainly not the best version. But I like him, even if I'm still shaky with how I want him so it wasn't a perfect rendition. Anyway, R&R. Have a good day!  
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